


drop it like it's hot

by icouldbuildacastle



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fireman AU - Freeform, it's one without sex, surprisingly enough, which is shocking for me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icouldbuildacastle/pseuds/icouldbuildacastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This sucks,” Felicity muttered under her breath. She nearly jumped out of her heels when she heard a low voice mutter back, “I know.”</p><p>She whipped her head around, only to then whip it up, because the man standing behind her was significantly taller. And more muscular. And more— fireman-y. Because he was wearing a fireman’s uniform. Okay, that made sense.</p><p>“Um,” she squeaked. “Isn’t this like- your job? At least, I’m assuming it’s your job because of the jacket and boots and badge.”</p><p>“Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I have to like it,” the man pointed out, fake smile firmly in place while he glanced around the area. He was really attractive, in the kind of way that made Felicity think he would look really nice in a suit or like, fucking her against a wall perhaps and oh god this is why she shouldn’t think thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is for claire, who asked me to write a fireman!oliver au. this is a drabble tbh, and also the first olicity fic i've written that's not straight up porn, so yay me! i am finally progressing and expanding my boundaries.

Listen, Felicity had nothing against Mondays. Mondays were fine. Well, getting up early again after the bliss of the weekend kinda sucked, but other than that, Mondays were a-ok in her book. _Tuesdays,_ however. Tuesdays were the goddamn spawn of Satan. The most cursed day of the week. The Kevin Jonas of weekdays. And at this point, Felicity’s internal waxing poetic tended to become external, so she put a stop to that train of thought.

And really, it wasn’t that Tuesdays were all that terrible (they were, like, _pretty bad_ though). It was just _this_ Tuesday. Because Felicity had lost her panda flats, so she had to wear pumps to work, and the coding on the new Palmer Tech tablets was just not going her way, and she brought only a salad for lunch (why did her past-self think eating healthy was a good idea?), and she thought it was going to be a nice autumn day so she didn’t wear a jacket to work and now she was stuck outside freezing her butt off in only a cardigan.

Someone- smart money’s on Cisco- in the Applied Sciences department managed to blow something up- _again_ \- and even though it was a ridiculously quick fix the entire cavalry of the fire department showed up, and the entire damn building had to be evacuated. Which could have been a nice little break from work, but as mentioned before, Felicity was not dressed for the weather, and everyone was packed onto the little courtyard/sidewalk in front of Palmer Tech, and she didn’t have anyone to stand with. Ray and Anna, as the owners of the company, were being briefed by the fire department. And Felicity’s other friends all worked in Applied Sciences, so they were giving statements to the firemen as well. So Felicity was left to sulk alone in the crowd, huddled into her cardigan and wishing she had worn stockings with her skirt today.

“This sucks,” Felicity muttered under her breath. She nearly jumped out of her heels when she heard a low voice mutter back, “I know.”

She whipped her head around, only to then whip it up, because the man standing behind her was significantly taller. And more muscular. And more— fireman-y. Because he was wearing a fireman’s uniform. Okay, that made sense.

“Um,” she squeaked. “Isn’t this like- your job? At least, I’m assuming it’s your job because of the jacket and boots and badge.”

“Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I have to like it,” the man pointed out, fake smile firmly in place while he glanced around the area. He was really attractive, in the kind of way that made Felicity think he would look really nice in a suit or like, fucking her against a wall perhaps and _oh god this is why she shouldn’t think thoughts._

“Fair point,” Felicity responded. She bit down on her tongue, knowing she was only one stray thought away from this guy thinking she was a perv, but after a few moments, the silence got to be too much. “Also, you might want to tone down the smile. It kinda looks like you’re baring your teeth.”

The man’s expression immediately dropped, before his lips twitched up slightly and his eyes sparked. It kinda made him stunning. _Now_ that _was a far more convincing smile._ “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh!” Felicity said, surprised at his continued interest. Normally after a verbal slip like that, people were inching away. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “My name’s Felicity. Smoak. Felicity Smoak.”

“Felicity. That’s a pretty name,” the man commented, his ridiculously pretty blue eyes sparkling. “Also, I could be making a ‘smoke and fire’ joke right now, but I’m a bigger person than that,” he finished with the biggest shit-eating grin across his face.

“Oh, hardy-har-har,” Felicity snarked back, adjusting her glasses. “Like I didn’t hear that one a million times in the third grade.”

“Well, what can I say,” he replied, stupid grin still in place, “My jokes go over great at the elementary school.”

“Oh, do you go there for presentations and things?” Felicity asked interestedly. She quirked her head up at him.

“Yeah, basic fire safety stuff. Stop, drop and roll. Test the doorknob to see if it’s hot. That kind of thing,” the man’s words could have come off as annoyed, but his tone was light and his eyes glowed. 

“You must like that part of the job more than this,” Felicity remarked wryly. The man’s face screwed up for a second, like he was going to fervently deny it, but then he thought better and shrugged helplessly. 

“Listen,” he started, “all I’m saying is this same thing happens bi-monthly, and it’s always fine by the time we get here. But a whole crew needs to come out anyway, and we need to do a full air-quality check each time because there are biohazard materials in there. It’s a waste of time, in my opinion.”

Felicity nodded. “Well, believe me buddy, I’m not any happier. I’ve been standing out here in high heels freezing my ass off for twenty minutes.”

The man suddenly started forward, brow creasing with concern, and made some weird aborted movement with his hand. “Uh, I’d offer you my jacket,” he said, hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “but… um.” And he gestured helplessly at the fireproof, reflective, heavy coat.

It was so cute, a short laughed burst out of Felicity. The man rocked back on his heels, looking rather pleased with the sound. “Well, if you can’t give me your coat, you could at least give me your name.”

“Oh! Excuse me for being so rude. I’m Oliver Queen.”

The man- _Oliver_ \- held his hand out for her to shake. Felicity took it, enjoying the way his hand engulfed her, and how his palms were warm and dry and rough with callouses, and how he had a good, firm handshake.

“You have really nice hands,” she blurted out, then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth in horror. 

Oliver didn’t even let her get out an apology (or more likely, dig herself a deeper hole) before he raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Thank you. I really like your lipstick.”

Felicity subconsciously rubbed her lips together, a flush creeping up her neck at the obvious flirting. This guy was just not fazed by anything she said, it seemed, and his compliment- did that mean he was staring at her lips? And if he was staring at her lips, did that mean he wanted to kiss her? And if he wanted to kiss her, she could totally ask him out to dinner, or just like, back to her apartment. But- he seemed really nice, in addition to really hot, and he seemed okay with her rambling, which was a big check in Felicity’s book, and she had only talked to him for two minutes but she already sort of wanted more than one night with Oliver. And he also totally looked like a dog person, like he would love to play fetch with the black lab she petsits for her neighbors on weekends. 

But before Felicity could ask him if he wanted to be dog watching buddies, or something equally mortifying, a voice called, “Hey, Queen! Stop flirting and get your lazy ass over here!”

Felicity and Oliver’s heads both whipped towards the shout, which had apparently come from some short kid with nice cheekbones and a firemen’s hat tucked under his arm. The flush on Felicity’s neck sprang right to her cheeks.

“Duty calls,” Oliver said with a sheepish smile. “But um, do you like Italian? Because I know a really good place, and it would be nice if you- I mean, if you wanted to, I know this is kind of forward-”

“Forward is fine,” she assured him quickly. “And so is Italian. I’m done here at seven, so if you want to just pick me up?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed out, looking visibly relieved. “See you then, Felicity.”

“See you,” she replied, smiling brightly up at him. He beamed back, and Felicity’s heart clenched for a second. Oliver reached out, and for a second Felicity thought he was going to grab her hair and kiss her, but he just laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. 

And then he was walking back to his truck, darting glances back at Felicity occasionally. And she wasn’t quite so fucking freezing anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity might have a date, but it's still Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so soo many people wanted a second chapter with the date/smut, and i wanted so badly to write the follow up they wanted!! but!! it's taken me forever just to write this, and it felt so forced, and i just could not bring myself to write smut or the date. it would have been horrible. that's just not how this story came to me, and i couldn't write it. i did write this little second chapter though, which is just as fluffy and silly as the first. i hope you like it, even if it's not what was requested :)

Listen, Tuesday’s still sucked. Just because Felicity managed to land a hot date on one did not mean the day wasn’t cursed. How did she know this? Well, for one thing, the programming for the tablet still wasn’t working, and the lines of code weren’t pouring from her fingers at her normal speed. She had eventually just had to admit defeat, and told Ray that she was leaving and would go back to working on it tomorrow. The shocked look on her boss’ face was just another small stab to her pride, but Anna luckily smoothed that over with a “Thank God, I was worried you were planning to stay until midnight. Again. Go home and get some rest, you’ve definitely earned it.” Also, it started pouring buckets the moment she stepped outside, at 6:58 pm exactly.

Felicity glared up at the clouds, water droplets fast collecting on her glasses lenses, and resigned herself to fate. Sucky things were just gonna keep happening. It wasn’t even worth it to go back inside and wait in the warmth of the security checkpoint, her mascara was already running. She sighed, and let herself get soaked through.

 Felicity started to regret the dramatics after about fifteen minutes, when Oliver still hadn’t arrived. She was shivering, teeth chattering, and it looked like she was getting stood up. And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake. Felicity shook her head sadly, and decided to go to her car and blast the heaters and drive home and eat a pint of mint chip. _Should have known that guy was too good to be true_. And because she had waited in the rain for so long for some freaking douchebag stander upper, her carseats were gonna get soaked. 

Felicity was literally turning around to walk to the parking garage when a hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder. She whirled around, ready to slap someone for touching her, and was greeted with a panting, red-faced Oliver.

“Hi,” he gasped out. “So sorry I’m late- I should have told you, I’m always late.”

“Yeah, that memo would have been nice,” Felicity murmured acerbically. She regretted it a little, because his face fell like a kicked puppy, but like, she had just gotten drenched and suffered emotional distress and now was going on a date looking like a drowned cat. “Sorry,” she muttered in the vicinity of her shoes.

“Don’t apologize, I should be the one saying sorry,” Oliver replied. “You had to stand out here in the rain waiting for me; you must be freezing.”

“A little,” Felicity smiled tentatively up at the man, who was really just as wet as her. “Do you want to walk to my car and get warmed up a bit?”

Oliver nodded enthusiastically, clearly relieved to be forgiven and headed somewhere dry.

“So what made you run late?” Felicity inquired as she scanned her badge to allow them in the parking garage.

“I got held up with tons of paperwork, I lost this bet- don’t ask, and had to do Roy’s too, and the nearest bus stop was two blocks away,” Oliver explained, rubbing his neck somewhat sheepishly. “I ran as fast as I could to Palmer Tech, but…”

“And you’re supposedly always late?” Felicity raised her eyebrows as she unlocked her car.

“It’s kind of a chronic thing,” Oliver winced, looping around to the passenger side. Felicity watched, mildly amused, as he stuffed himself inside.

“It’s like watching a real life clown car,” she said delightedly. Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“What even _is_ this thing?” Oliver asked disgustedly, his knees basically tucked into his chest.

“This _thing_ is a mini Cooper, and I am quite fond of it,” she sniffed. Oliver’s eyes twinkled, and it seemed like he was holding back a smirk. 

“Guess it beats taking the bus.”

“Damn straight it does,” Felicity shot back as she kicked of her heels. She wiggled her toes with a satisfied groan, and threw the car in reverse. “Do you mind if we go to my apartment first? I really want to get out of these clothes- and I meant that in a, I’m really wet- I mean, my clothes are soaked and I’d like to be dry and comfortable at dinner.” 

Her cheeks were flushed by the end of that incredible gem, and she kept her eyes trained on the road.

“Sure,” Oliver said affably. Felicity chanced a glance over to him, and was pleased to see  that he looked relaxed, and not put off by her mouth. It was a short drive back to the apartment, and Felicity chattered happily. Oliver didn’t say much in response (he wasn’t much of a talker apparently) but he made humming noises of acknowledgement when appropriate, and managed to look comfortable while basically being folded like an accordion.

At long last, Felicity unlocked the door to her apartment, and used her shoulder to shove open the sticky door. She kicked off her heels immediately, leaving them scattered across the hallway, then dropped her purse on the coffee table. Oliver followed her inside, avoiding the offending shoes and wisely not commenting.

Oliver glanced around her apartment, scratching his arm absently. Felicity noticed the shoulders of his shirt were still soaked through, as well as the hems of his jeans, and that couldn’t be fun.

“Um, if you want, I can put your shirt in the dryer too,” she said, scratching her neck uncomfortably. She didn’t dare mention his pants. If she didn’t know better, she would have said Oliver blushed.

“That’d be great, thanks,” he responded gratefully. He pulled his wet grey henley over his head, _as you do_ , _it’s not like we’ve known each other for all of twenty minutes_ , and Felicity gawked at his ridiculously cut torso. Thank God he hadn’t taken off his pants too, or Felicity might have actually tried to climb his body like a tree. 

“Wow, you are _ripped_ ,” she muttered under her breath. Oliver chuckled softly, and ran his fingers through his hair. Felicity shook her head, made sure she wasn’t actually gaping at his abs, then said, “here, just give me the shirt, I’ll throw it in with my stuff.”

Oliver tossed the shirt to her, and she rolled her eyes back. She headed into her room and changed quickly, pulling on jeans and a non-wrinkled red blouse. Felicity made a stop in front of her closet, wrinkled her nose at the heels, and grabbed a pair of flats with nice padding instead. She remembered Oliver was waiting in the living room, shirtless, and gulped. It would probably be safest for them both if he was not half-naked.

“Here, I have a shirt you can borrow,” Felicity called over her shoulder, rummaging through her drawers until she found the oversized MIT t-shirt she had gotten for free at some gathering. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any pants that would fit him, because she wasn’t some fucking weirdo that hoarded her ex-boyfriend’s clothes.

She padded back into the main room and gave the shirt to Oliver. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand while saying thanks, and that really shouldn’t be making Felicity shiver. After directing Oliver to the bathroom, she dumped their wet clothes in the dryer with a satisfying _plop_. Once she set the spin cycle, she headed back into the living room to wait for Oliver. And come to think of it, he _still_ hadn’t told her where they were going for dinner.

Felicity collapsed on the couch with a groan, toeing off the flats. She could literally feel her heels throb, and tried fruitlessly to massage some relief into her aching feet. She hadn’t made much headway by the time Oliver emerged from the bathroom, the t-shirt stretched tight across his biceps. He winced sympathetically at her plight.

“My sister loves high heels,” he started, edging closer to the couch. “It doesn’t matter how much they make her feet hurt.”

“Well, I do love my heels,” Felicity said, giving her feet a wistful glance, “Just not for fire alarms.”

Oliver chuckled quietly, more a movement than a noise, and glanced at the ground in a way that was almost bashful. “Well, like I said. My sister wears them all the time, and by the end of the day she normally collapses on a chair and makes me give her a foot rub.”

“Ugh, those are the types of stories that make me wish I wasn’t an only child,” Felicity groaned, because how nice would it be to have a live-in friend you could just boss into rubbing your feet? Oliver’s face lit up with a bright grin, eyebrows quirking happily.

“Believe me, I have plenty that would make you glad you were,” he replied. Felicity made a considering noise in the back of her throat, and Oliver twisted his hands together. “So, do you want me to…?”  
  
Oh. _Oh_. It occurred to Felicity that Oliver had been making an offer, in a roundabout way. He hadn’t just been remarking on his sister’s shoe habits for fun. She felt a bit of a flush spread over her collarbone, and she dropped her feet solidly to the floor.

“Oh, um, yeah, that’d be great, if you don’t mind…” Felicity trailed off as Oliver sat on the floor directly in front of her, legs folded like a pretzel. Clearly, he did not mind. He grasped her feet and pulled them into her lap, then began rubbing her right foot. He dug his thumbs into the arch, massaged circles into her heel and _damn this felt sooo good._ The pressure he applied was so strong that it almost hurt, but it was chasing the bad aches out of her feet at the same time.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long Oliver sat there for, but eventually her head lolled back onto the couch. Her feet weren’t blistering anymore, and she wiggled her toes happily. The motion made Oliver snort, and she lazily opened her eyes to grant him a benevolent smile. Oliver grinned back, moving his hands up to her calves and rolling his fingers into the muscle there. _That_ felt amazing, and she hadn’t even been sore there! 

“God, you have like, magic hands,” she sighed happily. “Everywhere you touch me feels like, a million times better than it did before.”

Oliver’s eyes darkened, and he propped his chin on her knee with a filthy smirk. Felicity instinctively wound her fingers into his hair, settling him in, making him a home on her body. 

“Everywhere?” he asked, voice smoky and low and vibrating through her veins. She hadn’t even dropped some really good innuendo, and here he was, looking like he wanted to eat her for dinner. Felicity wanted nothing more than to tug on his hair, pull him into the apex of her legs, have him undo her jeans with his mouth and lick her out while he massaged her inner thighs. Her fingers flexed over the back of his skull, and he sucked in a breath like he knew exactly what she wanted to do, and-

The high-pitched beep of the fucking dryer cut through the air. The temperature of the room seemed to drop about fifteen degrees, and the air coming into Felicity’s lungs felt sharper. She came back to herself, remembered that she didn’t know this man, had never been on a date with him or gotten his phone number or so much as kissed him, and this was _so totally out of bounds_ and gently untangled her legs from his grip. She gingerly stepped into her flats, and padded around him to the machine. 

Felicity fished Oliver’s shirt out, and turned around to give it back only to find that he had followed her into the utility room. She was eye-level with his throat, traced the cords of his neck with her eyes before tipping her head back up. Oliver grasped his shirt, slowly pulling it out from her limp fingers, and withdrew so that he could change again.

Felicity watched that beautiful torso appear and disappear under clothes once more, and cursed the damn dryer and her damn common sense and damn Tuesday's.

Oliver slid his phone out of his jeans pocket, checked the time in a perfunctory manner, and held his hand out to Felicity. She took it cautiously, gripped it more confidently when Oliver smiled at her.

“Looks like we can still make our reservation,” he said, nodding his head towards the door. Felicity nodded cheerily, chirped “Good thing! I’m starved.” and followed Oliver out of her apartment, not protesting when he flagged a cab instead of climbing into the mini Cooper.

Because when she slid in the seat next to him, felt the warm solid press of his thigh against hers, she knew that by the end of the night, she will have kissed Oliver Queen. And then, the rest of what she wanted? 

Fair play.

**Author's Note:**

> all the fireman~ stuff is pretty much bullshitted. however, my middle school had constant evacuations for air quality, i had probably 20 fire alarms in one year and we got a week off school. so. i actually might know something about this process. but this is supposed to be a cute fic, not a training manual, so dont take any technical stuff to heart. (not that there is any technical stuff, but i wanted a disclaimer).


End file.
